Aftershock
by Yusagi
Summary: 23 years after Buu is defeated, two simultaneous distress calls reach Earth from very separate quadrants of space. Could their meaning be much darker than mere coincidence? VP fic. Rewrite of 'Warriors love'


Disclaimer: I don't own anything you see here.

Notes: Set 23 years post-defeat of Buu. For purposes of preserving proper characterization, anything shown after this is disregarded unless otherwise mentioned. There will be some elements of GT preserved, but for the most part it will be ignored. This is a reworking of the original fic—with about 4 years more experience behind it—and also a decent spell checker. This will be much slower paced than the original, filled out better, and hopefully more character-accurate. Also, the time line has been bumped up three years so that Pan is 18 and Bra is 17. A more complete age chart is at the end notes,

Also, the previous fic did not at all take into account the ages of the older Z fighters, and was completely insensitive about a key character death. Hopefully this one will do much better at it. Given the slower pace, there's no telling how many chapters there'll be before I make it to the previous 'chapter 4', or how similar it will even be.

* * *

_Aftershock_

**Chapter One**

A cool breeze blew through the quiet mountainsides that stretched endlessly in every direction around the squat building. Lush green trees danced to a half-imagined dirge carried on the wings of the gathered wood-life. Before the modest structure, a small crowd milled in a silence only broken by muffled sobs.

Five figures stood in silent vigil over a smaller one, cocooned in heavy blankets. The stillness of the small room in which they occupied was broken only by shallow breaths, and its silence only by the rattled wheezing of the prone figure. A clear mask lay discarded on a nearby pillow.

Tears burned stubbornly unshed in the eyes of all surrounding the bed, as the frail form turned its proud gaze to each of the inhabitants of the building. The smallest guardian trembled in their effort to stem the tide of tears, as a willowy hand reached out to grasp the stronger one above her, and a shallow smile graced worn features.

"You've all made me...so proud." The feminine voice was thin and strained, but echoed through the room without difficulty. "I wouldn't change anything. Not even if I could."

A small sound, akin to a whimper, escaped the smallest form standing, and the taller one next to her quickly gripped her hand in reassurance. His grip was strong and sure, but the tears glistening on his cheeks belied the truth of the matter.

Gray eyes, still strong even now, passed across them once more. Their strong will had not faded in the least, and perhaps that was why they were here now. "Having you all here...its more than anything I could have wished for."

Her voice trailed into a wretched fit of coughs, and the tallest figure gripped her fragile hand with both of his, expression much more eloquent than any words of his had ever been. After her tremors stilled, she graced her closest guardian with a rare serene smile.

The situation they now stood in was no surprise—not to those here, nor the small crowd gathered outside. The decision had been made long ago. Expectation did not make it any easier for any of those standing in relative silence. Nor did it settle the mounting terror in the smallest watcher's mind.

Simple words of love and blessing passed through chapped lips. A half-formed choked sob escaped the youngest figure, before she bit her bottom lip harshly, and forced a weak smile. The gathered did not have much longer to wait, before tired eyes turned back to shine their love a final time on the silent warrior at her side, and her smile faded to stillness.

Soft sobs broke the sudden silence, as those standing nearby sought the strength to stand in collapsing against those next to them for support. The taller female figure in the room slipped away from the group to carry a soft message outside. The youngest did not care to listen for the reaction just now.

Reassurances whispered across the room, determinations to continue onward, and promises to honor the one watching them. The youngest, not quite thirteen, dampened the starched shirt of her father without concern for any of the words, and her father's cheeks flowed freely with their own tears.

It wasn't the first time they had lost someone. It wasn't the first time there would never be any going back from it. It was the first time she had lost something she couldn't replace.

**--:Five Years Later:--**

Pan groaned, and pulled the errant pillow back over her head, much to the dismay of the young woman standing beside the bed. "Not ready yet. Come back in the afternoon."

Her friend sighed, and snatched the pillow away once more. "Your parents are going to be here any minute, and we've got to go help set things up in the arboretum."

"S'what the robots are for."

"Very funny. They're busy actually _cooking_. Get up, Pan, or I'm dragging your dad straight in here when he gets here."

Pan opened her eyes enough to glare at the turquoise-haired woman smirking down at her. "You _wouldn't_."

"C'mon. _Half_ the people coming are part of _your_ family, anyway."

"How is this _my_ fault?"

"Responsibility, Pan. It doesn't _have_ to be your fault."

Pan groaned again, and rolled onto her back, laying an arm over her eyes to shield them from the sun. "Don't even _start_."

The younger woman chuckled lightly, tossing the pillow to the bottom of the bed. "C'mon, get up. Breakfast will be served any minute now."

Pan was silent for a few long moments, before sighing. "Coming."

**--:AS:--**

It really wasn't that difficult to prepare the large dome for the guests. It wasn't as if they were holding some sort of a convention or anything—Bulma Briefs simply demanded only the fanciest of layouts for even their simple get-togethers. It had been an annual ritual for the past five years, really. A method the older woman had to prevent anyone from forgetting. Catharsis for herself more than anything else. Usually everyone arrived anyway—Occasionally her grandfather, Goku, would miss the date, but he tended to arrive later even if he did. No one really blamed him for it that Pan had heard—he'd drifted further and further from civilization since Chi-chi had passed.

So maybe she _did_ blame him. But she'd never say it out-loud. No more than she would say how quiet and reserved her father had become, or how her uncle had ran away from anything remotely similar to training. They all dealt with it differently; she wasn't about to criticize them for their particular methods.

Bulma hovered near the arranged food, silver strands of hair shining prominently through the perfectly trimmed emerald hair reminiscent of her daughter's. Her husband, Vegeta, lurked somewhere in the distance, apparently attempting to meld into one with the faux forest around him. Trunks stood near the door, waiting to welcome the visitors once they arrived. Her friend, Bra, had abandoned her to the mercies of the Briefs' Reunion Party '59.

That _rat_.

Pan sighed softly, as she settled into a chair, and flashed the Mrs Briefs a light smile. The older woman nodded in acknowledgment, before moving to fiddle with one of the heat trays. Pan did not have much more time for thought, before the invitees began arriving. First, the aging Krillin—with more gray in his hair than black—ambled into the dome, shaking Trunks' hand merrily, followed by his ever-young wife, and then Goten's on-and-off girlfriend, Marron.

Next came her mother and father, carrying themselves with a quiet dignity even as they greeted and hugged the other arrivals. At some point her uncle tackled Trunks, and sent the pair rolling and wrestling through the grass until a wry comment from the just-arrived Yamcha distracted Goten long enough for Trunks to shove him off. Pan had never really gotten to know Yamcha, nor the other newest arrival, Tien, as they had always kept mostly to themselves. They seemed to handle their age well, though. Yamcha kept his peppered hair cropped short, and the various scars and wind lines on his face covered most other signs of aging.

Whether Tien had gone gray was unknown, as he still kept his hair shaved clean—but she remembered her father mentioning once that he was not human, as evidenced by his third eye, so it was entirely possible that he aged similarly to Saiyans.

Which brought her to the other two arrived aliens. Her grandfather, and her father's oldest friend. Neither of them looked a day older than her very first memories of them—a hastily thrown together celebration for her third birthday, that her grandmother had insisted on holding at home instead of the over-booked conference building.

Pan glanced down at the empty cup that had found its way to her hand. She could wait to fill it with punch until after the most of them had situated themselves. Too many hungry Saiyans going after the food at the same time would only lead to difficulties that Bulma didn't deserve to have to deal with, and Pan most certainly was _not_ going to deal with.

At the approach of Marron, Pan turned an engaging smile up, and waved brightly.

"Can you believe its been another year?" The blonde shook her head as she took a seat across from her. She had many of her mother's finely sculpted features, but her father had contributed a healthy curve to many of them, filling her face out to be much more friendly. "Time just zips on by, doesn't it?"

"That it does." Pan nodded, and glanced over at the over-sized buffet table to judge whether the majority had served themselves already. Her grandfather was already chowing down on at his own table, while her father and uncle were just sitting down with their plates, near enough to the table to easily grab replacements for food they'd finished.

"You okay?"

Pan blinked and glanced back at the blonde. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just groggy."

The woman grinned. "You always sleep in longer than anyone else I know."

"I do _not_!" Pan huffed, and frowned at her friend. "I just had a long night."

"Dare I ask how?"

She might've replied, if not for Goten approaching where they sat, and leaning over Marron's shoulders playfully. "What're we talking about now?"

Marron made a face, and slapped ineffectually at his hands. "Nosy!"

"Coming from you, that's almost profanity." Goten grinned slyly down at the woman. "But perhaps we should keep the dirty talk to more private places?"

Pan rolled her eyes at the pair. Clearly they were currently getting along. "The flirting. Can we keep it down to a minimal level? Its weird enough already, without you two broadcasting it everywhere."

Goten's grin turned wry, as he reached over to muss her hair, before pressing a quick kiss to Marron's forehead. "Go serve up, already, Pan, before Dad finds his way to the main table."

Pan shook her head, and stood. "If it means a breath of air _not_ filled with hearts and rainbows..."

Goten snorted in amusement, as she headed off toward the table to grab something to eat. She had a sizable appetite, all things considered, but it had never been quite so voracious as her father or grandfather's.

She didn't get very far, however, before several of the older visitors—including her grandfather—abruptly stood. She was not the only one looking between them in confusion, however, Krillin, her mother, and most of the other, younger attendants, were also looking curiously between those who suddenly stood.

"Bulma..." Her grandfather's serious voice cut through the sudden silence in the dome. "I'm sorry about this, but we're going to have to postpone this one awhile."

The older woman frowned in concern. "What's wrong, Goku?"

"I don't know exactly..."

The gravelly voice of her father's friend, Piccolo, spoke up. "New Namek is under attack."

Her father stood with a haste and urgency she had not seen in years. "_What_? Who?"

Her grandfather shook his head gravely. "I'm not sure. But I can sense their ki from here. I don't like it at all."

Krillin sighed. "It just never stops, does it?"

"You're not taking this one on alone, Goku." Piccolo's voice was confident, and his statement brooked no argument.

Her father ran a hand through his hair, and lowered his glasses to a shirt pocket. "Guess that rules out Instantaneous Transmission."

"Guess its the perfect chance to try out the newest Capsule model spaceship, then." Bulma nodded, moving toward the door. "I'll get it prepped."

"Thanks, Bulma." Her grandfather, still in his serious mode, nodded respectfully at the elderly woman.

Bulma smiled lightly. "If there's one thing I've learned living with all of you, it's to always be prepared for an invasion."

Krillin chuckled nervously, as the warriors milled toward the center of the dome where Goku stood.

"We're not all going to fit in that spaceship." Trunks' voice was matter-of-fact, cutting through the chattering of those gathering. "I'd say we'll only get six of us in there, before we have problems."

"We won't need more than _two_." Vegeta's arrogant voice hadn't changed in all the time Pan had known him.

Her father rolled his eyes. "Look, we don't know what it is, but whatever it is...we can't screw around with this. No one man _bravado._"

Krillin ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Whatever it is...we can't just...throw out everything we've got at them. What if something attacks Earth while we're gone? It's happened before."

"Then we need only leave you." Vegeta's tone was this with derisive sarcasm. "One look, and you'll scare them off with your _face_."

"_Enough_." Piccolo's growl cut through whatever reply the smaller man might've had. "Any one of us is

a match for whatever might attack Earth in our absence. We do not have long for _bickering._"

"Piccolo's right." Goku nodded, tightening the wristbands on his gi. "Me, Piccolo, and Vegeta are going for sure. Anyone else should start heading for the spaceship, too."

Vegeta snorted. "Hardly. This fight holds _no_ interest to me, Kakarot." His thin lips quirked up to a thin smirk. "After all, who will protect this miserable planet if someone with _true_ power isn't around to defend it?"

Goku frowned deeply. "But Vegeta..."

He waved the taller man off. "Whatever pawn has chosen to attack Namek _this_ time will hardly match a level of training I surpassed years ago. Certainly not with so many others fighting for their piece of the corpse." He sniffed in a dignified sort of way. "I will not be made to _compete_ for sport."

Goku said nothing for a long moment, before nodding. "Alright then. We can take it on ourselves."

Pan frowned softly, before glancing to her father, who was speaking in hushed tones with her mother. She could guess that her father would go—he'd never been big on fighting, but Krillin had told her stories of her father's childhood, and as she understood it, he had a deep connection with the planet. Where her father went, so would her mother, but that did leave two spaces open on the ship.

It wouldn't be her first trip out—she'd gone on an adventure of her own with her grandfather and Trunks, when they had a brief scare with the dragon balls, but they hadn't really had much time to enjoy it. And if there was something attacking this planet Namek...she'd never really faced off against something like that.

It was at least worth a try.

"Dad...?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her, before reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. "I know what you're going to ask, Pan. But you've gotta stay here. If something happens, there needs to be someone here to protect the Earth."

"Dad, it's not like I'm the _only_ one..."

"Pan." His voice was firm. "If something happens...you need to be here."

"There are _plenty_ of people protecting Earth!" It was petulant, she knew, but her father was being patronizing, so she felt it was fair play.

"_Not here._" His voice was still firm, but there was an urgency to it, as he gripped her shoulder tighter.

She blinked, frowning at him. "What?"

Her mother approached her then, touching her hand to her father's shoulder. "If something happens out there, Pan...we need you here."

The unspoken 'where its safe' was clear in her mother's eyes. If she were younger, Pan might argue further, but she knew her parents well enough to know it wouldn't help even if she did—and causing a scene would only delay them from rescuing Namek.

She sighed softly, and nodded. As Goten always said. She had plenty more years to adventure herself. She just had to wait for it. Which really wasn't fair, considering her father was _four_, her grandfather _twelve_, her uncle _seven_, and _she_ was nineteen and _still_ hadn't had much of one to speak of. Her father would tell her she needed more patience if she said that aloud, though, and with his mentor around, he'd only back it up.

So she sighed, and nodded. "Alright."

Her father smiled, and her mother nodded, before they both leaned down to press quick kisses to her cheeks, and moving after the small group headed for the spaceship.

"If it makes you feel any better..." Her uncle, Goten, wandered over to where she stood. "I got the exact same line. From _Trunks_ of all people."

Pan snorted. "Not really."

"Yeah, didn't think so." He patted her shoulder. "Namek's ugly, anyway."

At a disapproving grunt ahead by Piccolo, Goten ducked quickly behind her, throwing out a quick 'back before you know it!' before running off out of sight.

Pan sighed, and moved back to the forgotten buffet table. At least this meant she wouldn't have to worry about finding enough food to eat. Assuming Vegeta hadn't insisted on staying just to eat more, she'd have plenty to choose from.

The thought did nothing to help the situation.

**Ch End**

* * *

AN: Though it likely won't come up any time soon in the fic, it should be known that the Ox-King and Mr. and Mrs Briefs have died of natural circumstances by this point.

Bulma - 64, Chichi - 55_D_, Dende - 35, Gohan - 42, Goku - 54, Goten - 30, Hercule - 74, Krillin - 61, Marron - 26, Oolong - 57, Piccolo - 46, Puar - 54, Master Roshi 367, Tien - 64, Trunks - 31 Vegeta - 69, Videl - 41, Yamcha - 64


End file.
